


Is That Who I Truly Am? (I Truly Do Have a Chance)

by lovesexdeath_valley (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Bandom Big Bang 2015, M/M, Why do I do this to myself, but no one dies tho, but the little things are true, except for basically the entire plot is completely made up, it's gay af, its all mostly canon, no sex tho sorry this is an emotional kind of fic, patrick's parents make a cameo as well, this might be a bit sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lovesexdeath_valley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bandom Big Bang 2015</p>
<p>Patrick is having weird dreams, and they’re starting to affect his views on reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is That Who I Truly Am? (I Truly Do Have a Chance)

The first night, it was Joe.

"Patrick, man, I can't believe this. I never thought...out of all of us...I never thought I'd ever see you laying here. God, I can't believe this..." Patrick tried to speak, tried to tell Joe that he was _okay_ , that he was fine and could someone please tell him what the fuck was going on, but he couldn't. He couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't _see_. What the hell was happening?

"I am _so fucking sorry_ , Patrick. We-- _I_ \--should have been there. Jeez, how could we miss this? How could you _hide_ this from us! We're your best fucking friends! Even with the hiatus and the stupid fights; me, Andy, Pete, we fucking love you, you dick. We could have _helped_!" Joe's voice broke off in a muffled sob.

_Nothing is wrong with me!_ he tried to scream, but no sound came out. His mouth didn't even twitch. _Where the hell is_ Pete?

Joe cleared his throat, "The nurses say you can hear us, that you know what's going on around you. Y-you gotta wake up, Pat. You gotta come back to us. We're all so worried, so fucking _afraid_ , you have to wake up," he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, "Patrick, man, just _**wake up**_.

...................

Patrick jolted awake, arms flinging wildly and heart racing. His breath was shaky and his head was pounding. That was easily the worst dream he had ever had. It wasn't particularly scary, or weird, for that matter, but it felt so _real_. He couldn't see and he couldn't move, but it just felt so...wrong. Or, right, maybe. It simply felt like _him_.

"Yo, Stump," a voice called, interrupting his train of thought, "You ok?" 

Before he could reply, his bunk curtain was pulled back, revealing the vaguely concerned face of Pete Wentz. "What's up, dude? Bad dream?"

Instead of answering, he asked, "Don't you have your own bus?" 

Pete grinned, "Joe ate all the Pop-Tarts. Andy was kind enough to allow me aboard to take some of yours." Patrick narrowed his eyes and he was quick to clarify, "Not _yours_ yours, dude, I'm not stupid."

"Could have fooled me," Patrick mumbled, fumbling around for his glasses. Pete graciously ignored him as he carefully unfolded his glasses and put them on for him.

"See? What would you do without me."

"Have a full box of Pop-Tarts and a quiet bus."

"Oh, that hurts me, 'Trick. I'm wounded," Pete put both hands over his chest and frowned, "Speaking of metaphorical wounds, what was your bad dream about?"

Patrick shrugged, "It's nothing. It wasn't really even a bad dream, it was just weird, I guess." Pete nodded, so he continued, "It was dark, like my eyes were closed, and I couldn't move. I could hear, though, and Joe was there. He kept talking, like, I was asleep or something. He was telling me to wake up. I don't know, it was just..."

"Weird," Pete finished, quietly, head cocked slightly to the side in thought.

"Yeah," Patrick whispered, "It felt _real_ , though. That was the strangest part. I thought it was really happening."

Pete was quiet. He seemed...nervous. Worried. Like he knew something Patrick didn't and he was torn between telling the truth or keeping it a secret. Before Patrick could ask what was wrong, his grin quickly returned, "Maybe this is all a dream, huh? And we aren't real. Want me to pinch you, just in case?"

"No," Patrick deadpanned, smacking his already wandering hands, "I think I'll be okay, thanks."

"Whatever you say, Stumpster. If you change your mind, you know where to find me," Pete winked, giving a sarcastic salute before standing up again and skipping back towards the front lounge. Patrick rolled his eyes and tried to forget about last nights events as he pulled out his phone.

**To: J Troh**  
_stop eating all the pop tarts. theres a reason wentz is on that bus._

His reply came less than a minute later,

**From: J Troh**  
_bc you 2 can barely stop fighting long enough for us to play a show?_

**To: J Troh**  
_no. shut up._

**From: J Troh**  
_sure, ok._

**From: J Troh**  
_tell him to get his ass over here before we leave him on your bus again_

Patrick shuddered involuntarily, remembering the last time Pete was stuck on his bus, "Yo, Wentz! Get back to your own bus before you get stuck here again."

"No way! You guys have better food than us!" he called back.

"Yeah, well, that's your fault, not mine. And plus, do you really want to leave Hemmy alone with Joe for that long?" It worked exactly as he hoped, Pete muttered something about 'Joe and his ninja weed,' before Patrick heard the door to his bus slam closed. 

"You know," Andy said, out of nowhere, making Patrick jump and hit his head on the top of the bunk, "You two are going to have to talk sometime. We can't do this split thing forever."

Patrick sighed, "Yeah, I know. Just...not now. Okay? We're halfway through the tour, we'll be okay." Andy gave him a long look, before nodding once and heading back towards the front. Patrick sighed once again before standing up and following him, all thoughts of last night's dream successfully pushed to the back of his head. After all, the band was nowhere near a hiatus.

Right?


End file.
